Okay, so I know I should get BSM's bag ready the night before, but I didn't feeeeel like it. At least I remembered to talk to Husbinator about getting a steady supply of 10-agurot coins (smallest denomination of the currency here, worth 3 cents) for BSM to bring for tzedakah. I've known since parent orientation that I'm supposed to send this in, but I kept forgetting.
Husbinator found a little zipper coin purse that says "tzedakah" on it, I found our collection of coins, and Husbinator reminded me to write BSM's name on the coin purse, so that was done. And oy, was BSM excited when I told him about it this morning: he dropped everything to go examine the coin purse and coin and tell me exactly how he would give it to his Ganenet (Hebrew for pre-school teacher).
Great, so we finally got on top of the tzedakah thing (after a week), and I also wrote him a mitzva-note last night (because this is also something that the children should be sent with every day or every other day, and it's apparently a Big Deal and Very Exciting for the child when the Ganenet reads the note and tells the whole class what a Good Thing the child did). So coin and note are done. Great.
It's doubly great that I took care of the note last night, because BSM woke me up this morning by sitting outside my bedroom door, whining that I should write him a mitzvah note. I considered pointing out the irony of waking up his mother to get a note that he's a Good Little Boy, but (a) I wasn't coherent enough for that conversation and (b) it was 20 minutes after I should have already woken up. So I just hustled into my morning preparations and told him that the note was already in his bag.
I'm reasonably certain that I put all of BSM's clothing on him this morning (make that totally certain: he would have told me if I forgot his tzitzit or his socks or whatever). Since I was lazy last night, I also had to assemble his 10-o'clock-meal (another Israeli thing: it consists of a sandwich and a fruit, and making it usually takes about 5 minutes, so putting it off isn't such a big deal, right?) and realized that not only are we out of gvina levana (I think I mentioned this Israeli yogurt/sour cream/cheese spread thing; it's a good sandwich filler), but I also finished the natural peanut butter on Friday and haven't mixed the new one, yet. Urg. Just a little more hassle, but still doable. And BSM fills up his water bottle while I make the sandwich, so that saves me a minute.
So we have coin, note, food, water. BSM remembered to take his weekend portfolio bag, which gets returned on Sundays, and I remembered to find the folder with the reading sheet and mark that BSM read it twice, very well. (For the record, this reading sheet is a table with 36 cells, each with the letter aleph, bet, or vet. Reading it involves naming each letter.) I also remembered to take out his artwork from the previous week. So coin, note, food, water, portfolio with signed homework and without artwork. Done? Done.
We go to school, BSM nearly explodes with pride as he gives the Ganenet the coin and note, and all is well.
Until I'm driving to work and realize that I forgot to check off the last item on the "Good Stuff to Do" chart that the Ganenet sent home last Sunday and asked us to return today... Le sigh. It'll just have to wait for tomorrow, and if the Ganenet went over the other boys' charts today, I can be sure that BSM will remind me, too. Sigh.
Pre-school is hard.
Sunday, September 25, 2016
Science and Religion
A few weeks ago, BSM showed me the moon and then asked, "Why the moon doesn't fall down?" I began to explain orbital mechanics to him, but after about a sentence and a half, I realized that unless I'm willing to explain that we live on a spherical planet, this isn't going to work. And no, I am not willing to explain to a three-year-old that we live on a spherical planet: before he learns about planets, he needs to be less confused by the Atlas that we occasionally read. (I think we started reading the Atlas because BSM wanted to know where the yaks were. He went through a very brief stage where he was completely obsessed with yaks. No idea why.)*
Since BSM still wanted an answer about the moon, though, I told him that Hashem makes it stay there and doesn't let it fall. Which, while true, is a total cop-out, as far as I'm concerned.
I told our neighbor, who is getting a Ph.D. in physics, what BSM wanted to know, and the neighbor asked BSM why we don't fall to the moon. BSM remained confused, and I was even more convinced that explaining orbital mechanics properly would be a mistake.
Since then, BSM has asked me a few more times why the moon doesn't fall, and I even entertained the insane possibility of explaining that technically the moon is falling: it's just that its fall is so long that the moon can't land. (This is actually a fun and accurate way of explaining satellite orbits: you throw ["launch"] the thing and it tries to fall, but the Earth curves away before it can land, so it keeps trying to fall, but the Earth keeps curving...) Thankfully, I immediately realized that not only does that still requires the whole "spherical planet" explanation, but it will probably also freak him out.
I'm actually quite happy with the answer I've settled on, and BSM seems pretty pleased with it, too: "The moon doesn't fall because Hashem keeps it up there, in a stable orbit." This kind of sums up why I'm not bothered by this "Science vs. Religion conundrum" I keep hearing about: I see no contradiction between the two. The world works because G-d makes it work according to the laws of physics. Done.
---
*As I'm writing this, I think that I probably could explain spherical planets to BSM. He kind of understands the Atlas, so there's no reason he'd have any more trouble understanding a Globe. All I have to do is buy a globe, show him Israel and America (and the Himalayas, because yaks) a couple of times, and then add a tennis ball for the moon.
Since BSM still wanted an answer about the moon, though, I told him that Hashem makes it stay there and doesn't let it fall. Which, while true, is a total cop-out, as far as I'm concerned.
I told our neighbor, who is getting a Ph.D. in physics, what BSM wanted to know, and the neighbor asked BSM why we don't fall to the moon. BSM remained confused, and I was even more convinced that explaining orbital mechanics properly would be a mistake.
Since then, BSM has asked me a few more times why the moon doesn't fall, and I even entertained the insane possibility of explaining that technically the moon is falling: it's just that its fall is so long that the moon can't land. (This is actually a fun and accurate way of explaining satellite orbits: you throw ["launch"] the thing and it tries to fall, but the Earth curves away before it can land, so it keeps trying to fall, but the Earth keeps curving...) Thankfully, I immediately realized that not only does that still requires the whole "spherical planet" explanation, but it will probably also freak him out.
I'm actually quite happy with the answer I've settled on, and BSM seems pretty pleased with it, too: "The moon doesn't fall because Hashem keeps it up there, in a stable orbit." This kind of sums up why I'm not bothered by this "Science vs. Religion conundrum" I keep hearing about: I see no contradiction between the two. The world works because G-d makes it work according to the laws of physics. Done.
---
*As I'm writing this, I think that I probably could explain spherical planets to BSM. He kind of understands the Atlas, so there's no reason he'd have any more trouble understanding a Globe. All I have to do is buy a globe, show him Israel and America (and the Himalayas, because yaks) a couple of times, and then add a tennis ball for the moon.
Friday, September 23, 2016
Sweet Rolls
For the past month or so, I've been feeling the need to make my Bubby's sweet rolls. Even though they're delicious, I've only made them a handful of times. Honestly, I have enough trouble finding a block of time to both prepare and bake cake batter (as opposed to mixing up cookie batter, refrigerating it, and baking it later) that making a dessert that needs to rise for an hour is nearly out of the question.
But I love sweet rolls, both the taste and the memories, and as this Rosh HaShana gets closer, the need to make them keeps getting stronger. I bought the raisins weeks ago, and today I finally made them. Yes, it's Erev Shabbos, but that's my day off, and Rosh HaShana is just over a week away at this point, so really, what choice do I have? The need to make sweet rolls has very nearly reached the compulsion stage, and they must be baked before Rosh HaShana. They must.
While I was making the sweet rolls, I tried to figure out why I had to make them now. All I could come up with was that I somehow associated raisins with Rosh HaShana, and sweet noodle kugel with raisins wasn't enough. Then it hit me. Of course. Rosh HaShana is my Bubby's yahrtzeit.
But I love sweet rolls, both the taste and the memories, and as this Rosh HaShana gets closer, the need to make them keeps getting stronger. I bought the raisins weeks ago, and today I finally made them. Yes, it's Erev Shabbos, but that's my day off, and Rosh HaShana is just over a week away at this point, so really, what choice do I have? The need to make sweet rolls has very nearly reached the compulsion stage, and they must be baked before Rosh HaShana. They must.
While I was making the sweet rolls, I tried to figure out why I had to make them now. All I could come up with was that I somehow associated raisins with Rosh HaShana, and sweet noodle kugel with raisins wasn't enough. Then it hit me. Of course. Rosh HaShana is my Bubby's yahrtzeit.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Falling Down on the Job
We had parent orientation for preschool last night. I understood a good 80% of what the teacher said, and I would have understood more had the other mothers been a little bit quieter (hem, hem). Ah, well, that's what happens when you give out art project to do while you're talking: you create an environment that's not conducive to silent listening. (Apparently making an art project for the kids is a standard part of the Israeli parent orientation.) Anyway, we'll be getting a handout of the talking points with the newsletter on Friday, so I'm not too concerned about what I've missed: anything that already waited two weeks before being addressed can wait one more week without a problem. And if it can't I'm sure the teacher will let me know privately that I'm falling down on the job :)
Speaking of falling down on the job, little BSM needs to kick his game up a notch. He let me know a few days into the school year that the teacher said he shouldn't wear Crocs to school; he had to wear shoes. I figured there was a good chance that statement was factually correct, both because it was sensible and because it came two days after he told me he wanted to bring a water bottle, which did indeed turn out to be part of the "what to send to school each day" list. In any event, I have no issue putting him in tie shoes or sandals instead of Crocs, so that's what we've been doing. Sure enough, at the orientation, the teacher requested that we send our children to school in well-fitting shoes that are not Crocs (sandals are fine), due to footgear falling off. So that's another point for BSM.
What he neglected to tell me was that I'm supposed to be sending him to school with an occasional "mitzva note", so the teacher can tell the class what a good thing he did and hang the note on the wall. Tut tut, child. Tut tut. I mean, he also failed to tell me that he's supposed to arrive before 8:30am and I should send in money for supplies and music class, but I don't really expect him to know about that.
Speaking of falling down on the job, little BSM needs to kick his game up a notch. He let me know a few days into the school year that the teacher said he shouldn't wear Crocs to school; he had to wear shoes. I figured there was a good chance that statement was factually correct, both because it was sensible and because it came two days after he told me he wanted to bring a water bottle, which did indeed turn out to be part of the "what to send to school each day" list. In any event, I have no issue putting him in tie shoes or sandals instead of Crocs, so that's what we've been doing. Sure enough, at the orientation, the teacher requested that we send our children to school in well-fitting shoes that are not Crocs (sandals are fine), due to footgear falling off. So that's another point for BSM.
What he neglected to tell me was that I'm supposed to be sending him to school with an occasional "mitzva note", so the teacher can tell the class what a good thing he did and hang the note on the wall. Tut tut, child. Tut tut. I mean, he also failed to tell me that he's supposed to arrive before 8:30am and I should send in money for supplies and music class, but I don't really expect him to know about that.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Sandra Boynton
I've been slightly obsessed with Sandra Boynton's Works for Young People since college. Luckily, many of her board books (e.g., Moo, Baa, La la la!, Are You a Cow?, Doggies, etc.) are great for even the youngest readers, so I was able to include BSM in my Boynton interests with minimal delay.
BSM has even reached the point where he can "read" Blue Hat, Green Hat all by himself, and in fact read it to his cousins when we spent Shabbos with them a few weeks ago. (Grandparents and other similarly excitable people: before you get too proud of this brilliant boy's amazing ability to recite every single word of an entire book, see sample pages below. Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, BSM does occasionally get one of the colors wrong. He's still totally brilliant, though. Don't worry.)
Sandra Boynton's music albums, however, are a little more advanced. Even leaving aside Grunt (subtitled "Pigorian Chant from Snouto Domoinko de Silo"), which requires familiarity with both Gregorian chants and Pig Latin, her ostensibly-children's albums are full of satire and big words.
(Let's face it: I can't totally leave Grunt aside. Here's more about the book straight from Sandra Boynton herself:
Until recently, his favorite song from the collection was "One Shoe Blues" sung by B.B. King. (Unfortunately BSM pronounces it "One Shoe Bleeyoos". I have no idea where he picked up that accent: I could've sworn I don't have one, and that's my story and I'm sticking to it.) BSM generally objects to new songs, preferring to stay with the tried-and-true, which is a little bit sad for me. C'mon kid, just give "Pots and Pans" a try: it's awesome!
However, BSM recently stumbled across Boynton's Frog Trouble, which I'd been hiding from him due to Husbinator's prejudice against Country music. (I gather that it's up there with double-wides as Things To Avoid so as Not to be a Total Hick.) BSM was disappointed with the title track, because he felt it wasn't actually about frogs. (This is what I mean by Boynton's music being a little complex for three-year-olds.) ANYWAY, he struck gold with the next song he tried. It opens, "This next song is about trucks. It's called, 'Trucks.'" BSM didn't need to hear anything else to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he now has a brand-new favorite song, even if it was his first time hearing it. A whole song about trucks. This is his jam, ladies and gents.
BSM has even reached the point where he can "read" Blue Hat, Green Hat all by himself, and in fact read it to his cousins when we spent Shabbos with them a few weeks ago. (Grandparents and other similarly excitable people: before you get too proud of this brilliant boy's amazing ability to recite every single word of an entire book, see sample pages below. Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, BSM does occasionally get one of the colors wrong. He's still totally brilliant, though. Don't worry.)
Sandra Boynton's music albums, however, are a little more advanced. Even leaving aside Grunt (subtitled "Pigorian Chant from Snouto Domoinko de Silo"), which requires familiarity with both Gregorian chants and Pig Latin, her ostensibly-children's albums are full of satire and big words.
(Let's face it: I can't totally leave Grunt aside. Here's more about the book straight from Sandra Boynton herself:
"It’s plainchant and polyphony written in Latin and Pig Latin. I like to think of Grunt as the culmination of a lifetime of joyfully squandering an expensive education on producing works of no apparent usefulness... It became Amazon.com’s best-selling title in its category in 1999, which is true but don’t think about it too closely.")Still, I maintain that any little boy who enjoys "Here Comes the Sun" (even if he calls it "Sun dootin doo doo"), can listen to Philadelphia Chickens and Blue Moo instead of 100 Songs for Kids Sung Over-Emotionally and Just a Little too High: Guaranteed to Drive Parents Crazy! So BSM has been tolerantly listening to my Sandra Boynton playlist (occasionally interspersed with 100 Insanity-Inducing Songs for Children) for quite a while, now.
Until recently, his favorite song from the collection was "One Shoe Blues" sung by B.B. King. (Unfortunately BSM pronounces it "One Shoe Bleeyoos". I have no idea where he picked up that accent: I could've sworn I don't have one, and that's my story and I'm sticking to it.) BSM generally objects to new songs, preferring to stay with the tried-and-true, which is a little bit sad for me. C'mon kid, just give "Pots and Pans" a try: it's awesome!
However, BSM recently stumbled across Boynton's Frog Trouble, which I'd been hiding from him due to Husbinator's prejudice against Country music. (I gather that it's up there with double-wides as Things To Avoid so as Not to be a Total Hick.) BSM was disappointed with the title track, because he felt it wasn't actually about frogs. (This is what I mean by Boynton's music being a little complex for three-year-olds.) ANYWAY, he struck gold with the next song he tried. It opens, "This next song is about trucks. It's called, 'Trucks.'" BSM didn't need to hear anything else to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he now has a brand-new favorite song, even if it was his first time hearing it. A whole song about trucks. This is his jam, ladies and gents.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Another Milestone
As we do every so often, BSM and I prepared cookie dough this morning before school. (It can actually be faster to him dressed with teeth brushed and make dough than just dressed and teeth brushed. That boy can hustle for a good cause. I've also realized this morning that it saves time to distract him with the mixer while I make him a sandwich and bag up a snack all by myself.)
In the past, BSM's "help" with baking has been a nice way to spend time together, but not actually helpful. Sure, he can hold the measuring cup with me while we pour in ingredients, and he can mix with his spoon while I mix with my spoon (or turn the dial all by himself if we're using the mixer), but baking is still faster and easier when I do it alone.
This morning, though, we were making banana cookies (much yummier than they sound), and I neither felt like mashing the bananas nor trusted the cookie paddles to adequately break up whole bananas. Enter BSM, who cheerfully squished four bananas by hand for me. No extra dishes to wash; no banana goop all over my hands. Actually helpful!
In the past, BSM's "help" with baking has been a nice way to spend time together, but not actually helpful. Sure, he can hold the measuring cup with me while we pour in ingredients, and he can mix with his spoon while I mix with my spoon (or turn the dial all by himself if we're using the mixer), but baking is still faster and easier when I do it alone.
This morning, though, we were making banana cookies (much yummier than they sound), and I neither felt like mashing the bananas nor trusted the cookie paddles to adequately break up whole bananas. Enter BSM, who cheerfully squished four bananas by hand for me. No extra dishes to wash; no banana goop all over my hands. Actually helpful!
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Deliberate Communication
Last week, my employer sponsored an end-of-the-summer ice-cream day: a vendor set up an ice-cream stand outside our building and gave out ice-cream cones/cups. It was nice and it was yummy.
While getting my ice cream, I heard the guy behind me ask the vendor why there weren't signs on the (six) flavors so people would know which was which. "Because," the vendor immediately replied, "It's important to talk to people."
I had actually noticed that when I stepped up to request my cone: something in the vendor's body language told me in no uncertain terms that regardless of the line behind me, I'd better lead with, "Hi, what's up?" rather than, "I'd like chocolate in a cone, please."
While getting my ice cream, I heard the guy behind me ask the vendor why there weren't signs on the (six) flavors so people would know which was which. "Because," the vendor immediately replied, "It's important to talk to people."
I had actually noticed that when I stepped up to request my cone: something in the vendor's body language told me in no uncertain terms that regardless of the line behind me, I'd better lead with, "Hi, what's up?" rather than, "I'd like chocolate in a cone, please."
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Beginning School: Take II
School started for real on Sunday, and all went smoothly.
BSM cried when I left the first day, was a little sad on the second day, and since then drop-off has been fine. BSM told me that he likes school (yay!), but he doesn't like afternoon-care. Since most kids only stay until 1:30, they combine the 2- and 3-year-olds in the afternoon, which means BSM has to adjust to a new classroom and a new teacher. It's a lot of change for a little boy, but hopefully he'll be fully adjusted before the end of next week.
He's already fully competent at packing his backpack. At orientation, I asked his teacher what to pack for him each day, and she said to bring a baggie of breakfast, a sandwich, and a fruit. So far I've remembered to send him with the full complement (baruch Hashem, kaina hora, poo poo poo). Also so far, BSM has been checking my work, which is a little funny, but definitely a Good Thing. I like his commentary as he goes through his backpack in the morning: "Have water bottle. Have sandwich? Have sandwich. Fruit? Have fruit. Um..... What else? Um... Ummmm..... pretzels? Yes. Have pretzels."
My careful readers will have noticed BSM's addition of "water bottle" to the list his teacher recited for me. As we were leaving yesterday, BSM's glance fell on a water bottle and said, "Oh! Forgot water bottle like other children. Ha ha. I take it now." I have no objection to BSM having water available, so I helped him put the bottle in his bag, and off we went. Sure enough, when we got to his class, his aide asked if I could send him with a water bottle in the future. We already did that, thanks to the on-top-of-things boychick!
Following this trend, BSM got downstairs about a minute before I did this morning, and told me that he already checked his bag and everything was in it. "Really?" I challenged him, knowing full well that while I packed the water bottle, apple, and pretzels at 10 pm the night before, I'd left his sandwich in the fridge.
"Yes. Have water bottle and sandwich and fruit and pretzels."
"You have a sandwich???"
"Yes, I took it from fridge and put in backpack. I show you."
Well, I'm glad he's not exhibiting my natural levels of organizational abilities, but I'm kind of concerned how he'll react when he figures out how much better at this he is than I am. Presumably it will be a similar blow as when he realizes how much of a better housekeeper he is...
BSM cried when I left the first day, was a little sad on the second day, and since then drop-off has been fine. BSM told me that he likes school (yay!), but he doesn't like afternoon-care. Since most kids only stay until 1:30, they combine the 2- and 3-year-olds in the afternoon, which means BSM has to adjust to a new classroom and a new teacher. It's a lot of change for a little boy, but hopefully he'll be fully adjusted before the end of next week.
He's already fully competent at packing his backpack. At orientation, I asked his teacher what to pack for him each day, and she said to bring a baggie of breakfast, a sandwich, and a fruit. So far I've remembered to send him with the full complement (baruch Hashem, kaina hora, poo poo poo). Also so far, BSM has been checking my work, which is a little funny, but definitely a Good Thing. I like his commentary as he goes through his backpack in the morning: "Have water bottle. Have sandwich? Have sandwich. Fruit? Have fruit. Um..... What else? Um... Ummmm..... pretzels? Yes. Have pretzels."
My careful readers will have noticed BSM's addition of "water bottle" to the list his teacher recited for me. As we were leaving yesterday, BSM's glance fell on a water bottle and said, "Oh! Forgot water bottle like other children. Ha ha. I take it now." I have no objection to BSM having water available, so I helped him put the bottle in his bag, and off we went. Sure enough, when we got to his class, his aide asked if I could send him with a water bottle in the future. We already did that, thanks to the on-top-of-things boychick!
Following this trend, BSM got downstairs about a minute before I did this morning, and told me that he already checked his bag and everything was in it. "Really?" I challenged him, knowing full well that while I packed the water bottle, apple, and pretzels at 10 pm the night before, I'd left his sandwich in the fridge.
"Yes. Have water bottle and sandwich and fruit and pretzels."
"You have a sandwich???"
"Yes, I took it from fridge and put in backpack. I show you."
Well, I'm glad he's not exhibiting my natural levels of organizational abilities, but I'm kind of concerned how he'll react when he figures out how much better at this he is than I am. Presumably it will be a similar blow as when he realizes how much of a better housekeeper he is...
Beginning School: False Start
In mid-August, we received two envelopes in our mailbox. One contained two balloons and a colorful invitation welcoming BSM to come play with his teachers and classmates on Sunday, September 4; the other had three typewritten sheets outlining the preschool's daily schedule, yearly calendar, what to pack each day, etc., etc. The typed letter also included a clear schedule for the first few days, starting with a private meeting at 8am on Wednesday, August 31.
I was properly impressed by the mailing (separate envelopes for the child and parents!), but slightly off-balance due to the conflicting dates. So I called the school's main office a few times (no one picked up) and even left a message (no one called back).
Eventually, I gave up on the main office and called the number listed for the preschool classroom in the typewritten letter. Someone picked up and confirmed that the times and dates from the typewritten letter were correct (she seemed confused why I would have any doubts), and all was well. Or Was It?
On the morning Wednesday, August 31, BSM decided for the first time in ages that he needed to eat a bowl of cornflakes and milk at home, rather than breakfast on a baggie of pretzels on the go. So we showed up at Ohr Eliyahu (as his [private] preschool shall henceforth be known) at 8:10, instead of 8. Well, it looked like one person's 10 minutes late was another person's 10 minutes early, because the school grounds were deserted except for a solitary woman giving the classrooms their before-school deep-clean.
I was slightly less than impressed, but there was a small piece of playground equipment (ladder, tunnel, stairs, slide) to amuse BSM, so it wasn't a big deal. Twenty minutes later, after ascertaining that both his classroom and the main office were locked and uninhabited, I gave up and took BSM to his daycare.
Since I had clearly missed something, I showed the letter to his daycare-lady for her Israeli opinion. She confirmed that the letter stated we should have had a private meeting at the school that morning. Since no one was there, she told me, I should call the aide, whose cellphone number was also in the letter. The aide? What? Why? Because, she told me, that's who to call. Really.
Well, I didn't know what was going on, and the daycare lady sounded really confident, so once I got settled in at work, I called the aide's cellphone. She picked up, I told her who I was, and she immediately said, "Oh, we missed you this morning! What happened?" What happened??? "We got to Ohr Eliyahu at 8:10, stayed for almost half an hour, and didn't see anyone!" "Ohr Eliyahu?" the aide responded, "But we're the public preschool!" Oh. My. Gosh. I apologized and explained that I cancelled BSM's public school registration ages ago; the aide said not to worry about it and wished us the best of luck in the new school year.
All was now clear. Yes, we got two envelopes... from two different schools. And since neither school saw fit to include the name of the school anywhere (no return address, no letterhead, no answering the phone with the name of the school)... Well. Welcome to the Israeli school system.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
A Sobering (or Sad or Funny or Resigned...) Realization
Since making aliyah, we've been much better about doing laundry regularly, rather than dealing with mountains of the stuff about XXXXPREVIOUSXLAUNDRYXFREQUENCYXREDACTEDXXXXX.
On the kibbutz, frequent laundry was a given: not only were we limited by the amount of clothing we brought in our suitcases, we also didn't have to ensure we had a load's worth of any type of laundry before carting off our clothing to be washed.
Even after moving to our own place, we never let things pile up as much as we did in America. I assumed this was due to having both a smaller washing machine and an ideally placed laundry room: since it's right next to the bathroom, I have no trouble getting most dirty laundry in the laundry room promptly. This means we can easily see when we have enough for a load, and it takes less than 5 minutes to get a load into the machine.
Over the past few months, we've really been nailing the whole laundry thing, rarely accumulating more than two or three loads at any given time. I figured Husbinator and I finally hit our stride. Got into a groove. Found a part of the housework that we can stay on top of.
Then this morning, when telling someone how BSM insisted on cleaning up his room before going downstairs (this is the second or third time that's happened), the truth hit me. The vast majority of the time that I put laundry in the washer, it's to bribe BSM. "If you get dressed quickly, we'll have time to do laundry!" or "OK, fine: we can do laundry, but you need to finish your dinner first." I even occasionally give him a freebie, agreeing to do laundry with him without any preconditions. Hoo boy. Um, I guess this is a good thing?
On the kibbutz, frequent laundry was a given: not only were we limited by the amount of clothing we brought in our suitcases, we also didn't have to ensure we had a load's worth of any type of laundry before carting off our clothing to be washed.
Even after moving to our own place, we never let things pile up as much as we did in America. I assumed this was due to having both a smaller washing machine and an ideally placed laundry room: since it's right next to the bathroom, I have no trouble getting most dirty laundry in the laundry room promptly. This means we can easily see when we have enough for a load, and it takes less than 5 minutes to get a load into the machine.
Over the past few months, we've really been nailing the whole laundry thing, rarely accumulating more than two or three loads at any given time. I figured Husbinator and I finally hit our stride. Got into a groove. Found a part of the housework that we can stay on top of.
Then this morning, when telling someone how BSM insisted on cleaning up his room before going downstairs (this is the second or third time that's happened), the truth hit me. The vast majority of the time that I put laundry in the washer, it's to bribe BSM. "If you get dressed quickly, we'll have time to do laundry!" or "OK, fine: we can do laundry, but you need to finish your dinner first." I even occasionally give him a freebie, agreeing to do laundry with him without any preconditions. Hoo boy. Um, I guess this is a good thing?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)